Good Friday

I read the obituary page every day. I say each person's name aloud in my head--especially if the obit is very short and makes me wonder if any body cared. (I suppose if no one cared there would not be an obit.) I really like when they show a photo of the person in their prime and then one of them wrinkled and saggy, the experience of life etched on their faces.

Seeing the two photos is such a good reminder that this is supposed to happen: the aging, the wrinkling, the hair turning white. It's not sad. What makes me sigh with sadness are photos of young people in their prime and that's it. They died. They will never age.

That's why I like Good Friday because it's reminder that all of us, at some time in our lives, have been or will be crucified. (Don't believe me? Think of junior high.) I even like that weirdo, in-between limbo that is the Saturday before Easter. When I was kid I used to wonder, "What happened to Jesus's molecules on Saturday? Were they rearranging themselves to make him alive the next day?" (I was into the idea of molecules.)

I like that rearrangement idea. Usually we have to rearrange some things after we've been crucified: our ideas, our identity, our opinions, our emotions. We do that so that we can rise again.

May your rearranging and resurrections go well. Peace to your molecules.